Why Golf and High Fever do NOT mix..

By Himawan Prajogo

 Golfers never really stop thinking about golf. Or maybe I need to speak more specifically of guy golfers like me, as most of the ladies I play golf with lead normal, healthy, well-balanced lives with a wide range of interests when they are not actually between the 1st tee and the 18th hole.  They have this ability to turn golf thoughts on and off like a faucet on demand when they actually need to, that is, when they are at the range or at the course. Avid guy golfers, on the other hand, never fail to dedicate at least part of their brain's CPU power to some part of golf. Let me ask you this: everybody must have seen some guy while waiting for the train or the lift or the bus take an imaginary swing or two ? Or, umbrella in hand, start to practice their putts ? Yes ? Now when was the last time you see ladies do that ? Maybe my wife is right, golf is NOT a healthy sport of the weak male brain.

So anyway, that was the realization I made this week as I lie in bed feeling sorry for myself as I've been struck with what feels like at least 3 different strains of flu, each trying to outdo each other in severity to impress the judges in Influenza Idol. Using me as the stage of course. As far as I can tell, and as far as the doctor can tell when I crawled to his office 2 days ago, this is NOT swine flu or Mexican flu, but that's small comfort as I lie there groaning softly as every joint hurts. The fever caused me to lose sleep as I alternate between chills and sweating fits, and it was in this addled state of mind that I tried to pass the time by reading the GolfPunk magazine (Golfpunk is like FHM meets GolfDigest.. sultry bikini models caressing TaylorMade drivers while lolling around in a sand trap. Seriously), a book called the Natural Golf Swing by George Knudson, updates on my iPhone about how Tiger Woods is doing in the the Quail Hollow PGA tournament, and an ESPN.com article about how he almost won the Masters even when he wasn't anywhere near his best.. a whole pile of golf basically. Big mistake. Golf is not an easy thing to absorb by reading under the best of circumstances, so definitely not recommended for somebody with a 39.5 C fever and who've slept for only 2 hours in the past 36.

Somewhere around 3am, the  Knudson book in my hand, I must have drifted off to sleep, or at least a dreamlike state. I tend to get very vivid dreams when I am feverish and this time I got a real beauty. I found myself in a tree-lined golf course early in the morning, with pristine fairways and an immaculate green with a flag fluttering in the distance. I turned to ask what course is this, and a greenskeeper with white overalls told me in a Jamaican accent: "This is Augusta National, mon". Only that the guy turned out to look like Tiger Woods. Before I could say anything, somebody drove up in a buggy told me "Hey you need to register at the front office first ! Come !" I climbed into the buggy and was driven back to the clubhouse, and I saw the driver was Tiger Woods. I asked "Hey, are you that Tiger Woods ?" The guy just smiled and said "Yeah, we're all over the place, mon". No kidding. I remember signing in, getting my towel and locker and getting my buggy (I thought Augusta was a walking course ? Never mind..), all served by Tiger Woods in various uniforms.

And when I finally met who else is in my foursome at the first tee, yep, they're all Tiger Woods too.  Except for the starter, which looks like one of the Bunker Babe models from the Golf Punk magazine. The dream was pretty interestingly sweet until it was my turn to tee off (after my flightmates have whacked identical 300m drives straight down the fairway of course). Out of nowhere an old guy appeared and started to criticize my setup, my takeaway, my backswing and my follow through or lack thereof.. The thing is, he looks hand drawn and all in black and white.. I knew he must be George Knudson the guy who wrote the natural swing book... The Tiger Woodses (if that's the plural for Tiger Woods) in my flight was so impressed with him (and so unimpressed with me) they decided on the spot to ditch me and take him with them instead, which I agreed to do with astonishingly good grace considering I'm missing on playing with the greatest player who ever lived. Three copies of him in fact. I remember being told to be Knudson's caddy, but before I can lift his bag I woke up with a start, my body has apparently gotten bored being feverish and have decided to be sweaty for a change and I was completely soaked. Looked at the clock, it was 5am.. it was 2 hours of me dreaming of playing with the Tigers of the world.

If anybody was to try to interpret my dream, maybe it meant that I really like golf (to dream to play in Augusta), that I am scared of being unprepared (being told to register first), that article on Tiger really entered my subconscious somehow (the Tiger Woods clones) (not sure why he has a Jamaican accent though), and I am not very confident of my swing (being scolded by George Knudson right out of the pages of his book), and my firm belief in my inferior stature to the pros (kick me out of your flight and force me to caddy for you ? Sure, no problem !!). Add my overheated neurons firing wildly and I had myself a very weird dream.

This morning finally my flu subsided enough that my hair stopped hurting when I comb, but when I reached the office, it only took one "Gud Mornig" from my stuffed nose to get my boss to look in horror and send me packing to work from home. This time I've learnt my lesson though. No more golf reading at bedtime !

 PS: It's past midnight when I finally finished editing this post.. my fever's gone but let's hope good old George doesn't reappear tonight in my dream to berate my wrist hinge action or something..